


We'll Always Have Paris

by isitandwonder



Category: Actor RPF, Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF, Louis Garrel fandom, Timothée Chalamet fandom
Genre: Bisexuality, Blow Jobs, Choking, Face Slapping, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:14:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22118458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isitandwonder/pseuds/isitandwonder
Summary: Tim seduces Louis after a day of doing press for Little Women...
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Louis Garrel
Comments: 38
Kudos: 59





	We'll Always Have Paris

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MyPinkCactus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyPinkCactus/gifts).



> There's not enough Tim/Louis porn!
> 
> Just a little one-shot for MyPinkCactus because of THAT picture...
> 
> This is ficiton. Nothing like this ever happened.

„Did you really have to say that about my sister?“ Louis asks as they are finally alone in the hotel suite, all journalists and photographers gone; even their handlers have left, probably to get a drink at the bar.

“Uhm... what?” Tim is distracted by his phone, scrolling through his feed.

“Comparing her to that peach and finding her – and I quote – _lacking_?” 

Tim raises his eyes from the screen. Louis is smirking but there is something in his look that has Tim put his phone face-down on the low coffee table.

“I wasn't talking about Esther and me. I was talking about Elio and Marzia. And yes, Elio lasted even shorter with the fruit than with the girl.”

“Well, this is certainly saying _something_ about your stamina.”

Louis gets up and walks over to the sideboard with the drinks and snacks, selecting a bottle of Perrier after careful consideration.

“You have no idea about my stamina, Louis. I was acting.”

“Sure.” Louis unscrews the bottle and takes a sip. Tim watches his throat move as he swallows.

“I got an Academy Award nomination for it so of course I was very convincing.” Tim huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“My dad always says that Academy is rotten to its core, a bunch of American philistines...”

Tim rolls his eyes. “God, Europeans can be such snobs! I bet he would think differently if they'd awarded him an Oscar.”

“Aren't you half-French as well, Timmy?”

“And half-American.” He sits up a little straighter.

“Whatever.” Louis flops down on a couch opposite from Tim. “Esther told me some interesting things from the set in Italy.” He makes a show of taking out a pack of Gitanes and lighting one.

“Oh my god! Not you as well! It was a movie! We immersed ourselves in the source material-”

“Oh, so you and Armie went method?” Louis angles for one of the empty coffee cups and uses the saucer as an ashtray.

“Listen, is it possible that Esther only told you that because I didn't go _method_ with her?”

“I doubt that as she was shagging the cutter.” Louis grins.

“What? Walter?”

“She always had a thing for older guys.”

“Yeah, but... Walter?” Tim can't believe it.

“Where's the problem? Apparently, you play for the other team anyway?”

Now it's Tim who smirks.

“Is that your subtle French way to inquire about my sexuality?” He leans back on his couch, spreading his arms on the beige backrest.

“Maybe.” Louis blows a smoke ring.

“I have a girlfriend...”

“Oh, please!”

“But it's true. She's half-French as well. Beautiful. A model. Very delicate. Never wears a bra.”

“And knows almost everyone in Hollywood.”

Tim shrugs. “So what? My first girlfriend was Madonna's daughter. Where am I supposed to go from there?”

Louis stubs out his cigarette and suddenly laughs.

“You're a handful, Chalamet.”

“More than a handful, actually.” Tim spreads his legs, cants his hips forward. “Wanna check it out?”

“Jesus. Keep it in your pants, please.” But Louis doesn't look disgusted. Or amused. He looks intrigued.

“Didn't your sister tell you?” Tim slides his right hand between his legs and cups himself. “She felt me up in one scene...” He gives himself a squeeze, watches Louis gaze drop to his crotch.

“Tim, I think we should go down to the bar to meet the others-”

“Why? To spent another evening with Saoirse and Florence shotgunning Stellas? I have something much better to offer.” He licks his lips in invitation.

Louis squirms. “What are you talking about?” His eyes have gone dark as he's frowning but doesn't look away.

Up until now, it has just been a game for Tim, maybe to shock the veteran actor, maybe to rile him up. But in this moment he understands that he has a chance here. And Tim never passes up the chance to seduce a beautiful person – be it man or woman. He's not picky about what he finds between one's legs.

A fleeting thought of Lily passes through his mind. But what her eyes won't see, her heart won't grieve over. Tim isn't the jealous type and never asks her about her friends either.

He's been lonely, those past few days. He's gotten used to get it regularly but now she's in LA to work. What's he supposed to do, live like a monk?

He's Jewish, for fuck's sake!

Besides, isn't it beguiling to have had both sister _and_ brother?

Tim arches an eyebrow, then slides to the floor and crawls over, coming to kneel between Louis parted thighs.

“Did your sister tell you what my mouth is capable of?” He asks, gazing up at Louis through his lashes.

“You mean apart from downing Sambuca shots?” His voice is rough as he makes this rather helpless attempt at humor.

Yet Tim shudders. “That was one evening...”

“No, she didn't. But maybe I should've asked Armie.”

“Maybe you should have.” Tim doesn't take his eyes off Louis face as he reaches for his fly, casually popping open the button of his black suit trousers. As his fingers play with the zipper he murmurs: “Now's your last chance to say no.”

Louis stays quiet.

So Tim pulls the zipper down and reaches inside. There's black cotton underneath the fine wool, hugging a hard length. 

Tim grins.

“So this turns you on, Monsieur Garrel?”

Louis doesn't answer but his jaw goes slack when Tim leans in and mouths the cotton, breathing his musky scent in, biting the covered head before giving it a gentle suck.

“Fuck!” Louis exhales. Tim tastes briny precome through his shorts and hums.

With his hands he signals for Louis to raise his ass from the cushions, using the leeway to pull his trousers and underwear all the way down so he's sitting bare-asssed on the couch, just wearing his black t-shirt.

He's hard, leaking, balls tight. There's a lot of black hair between his legs from which a cock springs that makes Tim's mouth water.

He's not as huge as Armie, but then, who is? And that doesn't have to be a disadvantage.

Tim swallows the glistening head, swirls his tongue around. Louis falls back against the sofa with a sigh.

Tim pulls off and smiles.

“Are we enjoying ourselves up there?”

“Fuck, get back to blowing me.”

“Oh, Monsieur, you want me to blow you?”

“Yes, you little fucker.” Louis pushes a hand into Tim's curls and tries to pull him closer, but Tim resists.

“What does that say about you, Louis Garrel?” He asks, his voice dropping an octave,

“A mouth's a mouth, right?” Louis eyes are almost black, his pupils blown wide.

In answer, Tim licks up a broad stripe from his base to his glans. “Does it excite you that I performed cunnilingus on you sister?” He rasps.

For a brief moment, Tim thinks he's gone too far, that Louis will push him away now, maybe even slap him and walk out.

He shudders, this time with arousal.

But Louis doesn't do anything like that. Instead, his fingers only tighten in Tim's hair. “Shut up and get down to business.” He groans.

And Tim does, not daring to risk his chance again. He swallows Louis down to the hilt, hearing him gasp above him before his hips stutter, pushing his cock even deeper down Tim's throat.

Tim gags but doesn't pull off. God, he likes it like this! He missed it so much.

When Louis starts to apologize, Tim covers his hand in his hair with his own and squeezes.

Louis gets the message.

He holds Tim's head in place as he starts to fuck his mouth, hard, fast and rough – just like Tim needs it. He splutters, spit dripping down his chin, but Louis' cock filling his throat, cutting off his oxygen supply is intoxicating.

Just as he can feel Louis swell on his tongue he removes his free hand from the hairy thigh he's been clutching at, pushing it under Louis, his palm massaging his sac while the tip of his index finger circles Louis' hole.

He comes with a surprised shout down Tim's throat and he swallows every last drop of his release before pulling off with a pop.

“Mon dieu...” Louis sighs, looking disheveled, his black curls sticking to his forehead, eyes shining bright.

Tim leans back, proud of having reduced Louis Garrel to a panting mess smelling of sweat and cum fighting for breath.

Nonchalant, Tim takes his pack of Gitanes from the low side table and lights one, his other hand unbuttoning his jeans.

“Wanna watch?” He purrs, filling his lungs with acrid smoke.

Louis can only nod.

“Your sister has a very sweet pussy.” Tim tells him as he starts to stroke himself, aware that Louis is staring at his hard cock, its head disappearing in Tim's tight fist.

“Please stop talking about my sister while you masturbate.” Louis sounds as if he'd just drunk a bottle of Cognac.

“And her tits are small but firm. Nice nipples. I loved playing with them-”

“Tim!”

“Slap me. Make me shut up.” 

It doesn't really hurt when Louis hits him but it's enough to push Tim over the edge, coming all over his fingers.

The cigarette drops from his free hand, burning a whole into the beige carpet.

They stare at each other in silence for a moment before they both burst out laughing.

“If I'd known I'd put you over my knee.” Louis snickers.

“Is that a promise?” Tim bats his eyelashes.

“Stop that.” Louis is offering his boxer briefs for Tim to clean up.

“I have a better idea. I've seen you in this one movie... lets take a bath. I think there's champagne in the mini-bar.” He saunters off in the direction of the bathroom, sure that Louis will follow.


End file.
